


Beauty and the Beast ~ GerIta

by eastern_westward_home (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, America is a bit not good, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Beauty and the Beast AU, Confessions, Fluff, Gay, Lovino is a good big brother, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, The Author Regrets Nothing, instead we use fruck, jk i regret EVERYTHING, no swears here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25533736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/eastern_westward_home
Summary: ||ON HOLD RIGHT NOW WHILST I SUFFER THROUGH MY WRITER'S BLOCK||I suck at summaries, but if you read the fic, you'll understand...Basically, it's not exactly the same as the original plot for Beauty and the Beast, but it's close.I made Lovino a bit nicer, mostly because I just needed a fic where Lovino is a good big brother for once-Honestly though, there's more FrUk than GerIta in the first few chapters, but it's a slow burn [and my first slow burn] so bear with me please! Thanks so much!Uhh and idk what happened to the plot so bear with me, please! Updates may vary, but will probably be no longer than a week per chapter.
Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), North Italy & South Italy & Vatican City (Hetalia), onseided America/North Italy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 30





	1. Into the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks soooo much to everybody who helped with the decision of who’s who! 

Lovino hoisted a small bag over his shoulder containing some food, coins and a cedar box. Inside the box was an ivory coloured cloth, and on the cloth lay several an intricate glass rose. He had to sell something to get more income into the household. He had been doing it for some time, and most of the people in his town would not buy anything from them (“The Vargas are cursed!”), so he had to travel across the forest to the market, where all the people did know or care that him and his brother were orphans. Plus, his younger brother, Feliciano, wanted to open a pasta place, and Lovino, despite the fact that he _knew_ that it could never work, wanted to help him anyway. Although he sometimes got mad at Feliciano’s foolish antics, he knew that his brother loved him, and just wanted to help him, in any way possible. 

Lovino loved his brother dearly, though he was often gruff around the edges. He just wanted to give Feli the best chance at life, something his parents had been unable to give them. 

He glanced back at his brother, who lay sound asleep on one of the two cots in their shared bedroom. Lovino pulled out a piece of paper within his coat pocket - which he had written on the night before - and placed it on the table, where Feliciano would easily be able to find it. The letter read, ‘I am going to the market on the other side of the woods to see if there are any potential customers there. If I’m not back within a week or two, then I’m probably lost. Please behave yourself. Love, Lovino.’

Lovino smiled at Feliciano, and then silently crept out of the door, closing it behind him quietly, and began walking down the road that would lead him into the forest.

…

It was a cold autumn morning, with a fresh crispness that reminded Lovino of the _Mela Rossa Cuneo_ apples from the apple tree in their backyard. The sun was just starting to rise over the treetops, casting long shadows toward him. He knew the woods by his home as well as the back of his hand, as he had explored them countless times during his youth. 

He glanced at the darkened windows of the fancy houses of the small town in which they lived, and wondered what would have happened if his father had not left on that fateful trip that left him and Feli orphans (their mother had died giving birth to Feliciano). Lovino wondered what would have happened if they had not lost everything. Would they have continued to live in one of those fancy houses? 

Lovino sighed, and continued down the lonely road into the dark forest.

…

The forest was quiet, unnaturally so. It was still; quiet and still. 

_Like the calm before the storm,_ thought Lovino, and he shivered, pulling his thin coat around him tighter. 

As he continued along the forest, the shadows deepened and lengthened, twisting into unnatural forms. Lovino thought about all the stories he had heard of people who entered these woods and never returned, but quickly banished them with the thought of how torn Feliciano would be if he never returned. 

_Besides, I_ know _this forest._

Having regained his courage, he continued forward. He walked down the winding path, stepping over stray roots and rocks. The path was too small for a carriage to pass through, but he had seen people drag wheelbarrows into the town. 

Lovino sighed, wishing that he had been rich enough to afford a wheelbarrow. His years as a workless orphan had cost the Vargas everything: their fancy house (the town had taken it, saying that two orphans could not possess such a house, and so they ended up in their grandfather’s old 2-room cabin), most of their money (once again, the town took it, so they could properly “care” for them), and they lost their reputation. No one wanted to be associated with the one family whose father had left abroad and never returned. It was, as the rest of the village said, a curse on the Vargas family. 

Lovino and Feliciano were the only orphans in the town, which had only fueled the “cursed” view of the Vargas family. 

He travelled for a while longer, until the sun had risen high above the forest, beating down on his shoulders and making him wonder what had happened to the morning chills. At lunch, he stopped and rested on a log lying to the side of the path. Lovino ate a stale crust of bread and some dried meat, along with some soapberries he gathered during the walk. The soapberries were bitter and tasted awful, but he forced them down, knowing that they were nutritious. He continued until the only light in the woods were from fading tendrils of golden sunlight and the pale silver sheen from the full moon. 

As he walked, his mind wandered back to Feliciano. He wondered what was happening back in the town.

Suddenly Lovino’s foot caught on a root that he had not seen, and he crashed to the packed earth.

All the air in his lungs _whooshed_ out of him, and he lay on his stomach, wincing in pain, struggling to catch his breath. 

Then he heard it: a low, menacing, animalistic growl.

It was as if a spike of fear had been driven into his heart, sending a roiling wave of adrenaline through his veins.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain, grabbing a long stick nearby and brandishing it ahead of him.

Slowly, he turned in a circle, but he saw nothing.

_How could I have been so stupid?_ thought Lovino, cursing himself silently. _I should not have let my focus wander._

“Is there-” His voice cracked, and he tried again. “Who’s there?” 

When nothing happened, he frowned, frustrated, and continued down the path, ever wary of this potential threat. 

The sunlight had completely disappeared, and along with it, the warmth from earlier. 

Lovino shivered, once again pulling his coat around him. 

_Fruck autumn,_ he thought, _with the crazy temperature swings._

He kicked at a random rock, and watched it bounce away into the underbrush. 

Then he heard more noises, noises that could not have been caused by that rock.

_The wolves?_

Suddenly there was a bone chilling howl. 

_Fruck._

He bolted forward, completely forgetting that it would be better to _not_ run, and find a tree to climb. 

Lovino ran down the path, and came to a fork in the road. To go right would take him to the market.

He started to go right, but then the howls started up again, from somewhere to the right of the path.

Immediately he turned and sprinted down the left side of the path. Lovino had never been down the left path. 

He came to yet another fork in the road. Lovino looked right, then left, wondering which way he should go down. Finally, he decided to go left - further away from the wolves. 

After a couple hundred meters of winding, curving path, he saw a massive iron gate up ahead. 

Lovino put on a burst of speed and screeched to a halt in front of the gates. 

He pushed carefully against the gate, and it easily swung open, although it creaked and groaned loudly, causing Lovino’s heart to jolt in fear until he realized that it was just the gate.

He slipped inside, and closed the gate behind him. Then he hurried down the driveway, which led to a massive stone castle. There were dim lights flickering from the west wing of the caste. 

Though it looked inhospitable and formidable, Lovino felt hopeful. 

_Maybe,_ he thought, _the inhabitants of this caste will let me stay overnight. And if not, well…_ _we shall see..._


	2. Roses and Thorns

Lovino approached the castle’s broad, wooden doors. Now that he was closer to the castle, his hopefulness had been replaced by nervousness; which was not unexpected as it had an aura of despair around it. 

To his surprise, when he knocked, the doors swung open. When he stepped inside, he saw no one. He scuffed his boots on the carpet to knock off any mud (he did it without realizing it as Feliciano would have fits if he stomped into the house, leaving dirt all over the floor, so it was practically second nature to do so). Lovino wandered deeper into the castle, guided only by a dim, flickering light at the end of a faraway hallway. 

“Anyone home?” he called.

He thought he heard something - a soft “ohonhonhon” followed by someone shushing somebody else, maybe - and turned around. There was no one there, only a small table in the corner with a tall human-shaped candelabra candle and a squat pendulum clock. 

“Hello?” he asked. No one answered, so Lovino shook his head, thinking that he was just imagining things.

However, he had  _ not  _ imagined the quiet “shh!” from the corner. The noise had in fact come from the pendulum clock, in an angry retort to the candle, who had ‘accidentally’ giggled.

“We  _ never _ get visitors!” he said to the clock, “This is going to be so fun!” He chuckled again, and the clock slapped him. 

“Shhh, you frog!” hissed the clock. Then, as Lovino spun around, searching for the seemingly invisible voices, they both snapped back into position, as if nothing had happened. 

See, these seemingly inanimate objects had been cursed a long, long time ago by an enchantress who had been refused shelter during an awful storm by the prince who lived in this castle, as he had thought her to be an ugly old hag. (He had been a pompous fool, who did not want such a foul looking wretch in his beautiful castle.) The enchantress had been enraged that he had cast her away, and so she turned him into a monstrous beast, and all the inhabitants of the castle into house-hold items that could move and talk like humans. The curse had not ended there, as the enchantress was not entirely heartless. She gave the prince an enchanted rose, and told him that he would have a chance at becoming his normal, beautiful self if he could find true love before the last petal fell off the rose. 

At first, the prince tried as hard as he could to find true love, but each and every time, he failed. Eventually, he gave up. However, not everyone had given up. 

Meanwhile, Lovino had wandered down the hallway. He came to an elegant, arching stone doorway and walked through. He found himself in a massive dining room. Despite its obvious capacity to have many tables within it, there was only one. It was a long, wooden table, with six chairs slightly pulled out from underneath it, and the table itself was heavily laden with food. 

Curious, Lovino crept forward. For some reason, he had a peculiar feeling that he was being watched. He turned around again, but, again, he saw nothing strange. 

“Can I have this food?” he asked. When no one answered (which he had expected by now), he took the silence as a ‘yes’. 

He half lunged, half slid into the seat closest to him, and inspected the food before him. To his dismay, it was all potatoes (baked in every way imaginable) and sausages (in every flavour imaginable). There was no pasta to be seen.

However, his hunger was more overpowering than his loathing for potatoes and sausages, and he took the plate before him and scooped a dollop of mashed potatoes onto it, followed by a sausage. Lovino wondered if the sausage was pork, but then decided that that was not important. He took a small nibble of the sausage, and then could not hold back. He scarfed down the entire contents of his plate in minutes. Once he was done, he sighed contentedly, and stood up. 

He looked around again to see if he could pinpoint the source of the uncomfortably prickly feeling of being watched. Again, he saw no one.

“Well…” began Lovino. “I don’t know if you can hear this, but if you can, thanks for the food, and… uh… can I stay the night?”

There was no reply, and, again, Lovino took the silence for a ‘yes’. 

Lovino walked to the fire that had emitted the light that had drawn him to the dining room in the first place, and lay down on one of the two conveniently placed arm chairs. He took off his coat and snuggled underneath it. 

Soon, with a full stomach and a warm fire glowing and crackling in front of him, he fell fast asleep. His sleep was fitful, though, as it was plagued by thoughts of Feliciano. When he woke early the next morning, he had forgotten all of his dreams.

The dining table had been refitted with breakfast, and to his relief, there were no traces of potato or sausage anywhere. 

_ Well, at least I know there are people here,  _ he thought. 

Lovino sat down and ate, having crepes and fresh fruit, which was something he had not had in a while. 

When he finished, he stood and lifted his bag up. Reaching inside, Lovino pulled out the cedar box. 

He cleared his throat, and said loudly, “this is my thank-you gift to you, in return for all that you have given me.”

Then he placed the box on the table.

Then he walked back to the doorway, slinging his bag back over his shoulder as he did so.

As Lovino meandered down the hallway, he noticed that the clock and the candle from before were missing. He frowned, and hesitated. Then his expression cleared, as he realized that the owner of the castle, or maybe the servants, must have moved them.

He walked to the big wooden front door, and tugged gently at it. 

It opened gently, and he skipped out into the first, soft rays of the morning sun.

As he walked out, he spotted a rose bush.  _ Feli loves roses,  _ Lovino thought, and moved towards the bush. 

He looked at the blood-red roses, and selected one that was in full bloom.

No sooner had he plucked it, when Lovino heard a soft  _ whump  _ from behind him. He turned around quickly, wondering where his stick had gone. 

The sight that greeted him jolted a cry of fear from his throat. 

The beast before him was hideous. Well, the part of the beast that he could see. As it was still early in the morning, the only part that was obscured by shadows was the monster’s legs - which were insanely muscular and hairy, and the toenails were not toenails: they were claws. 

“D-don’t kill me!” he whimpered, shrinking back against the rose bush, gripping the rose so tightly that the rose’s thorns pierced through his skin.  _ If I die, then Feli- no one will care for Feli- _

A rumble was emitted from the beast’s throat - and Lovino was absolutely certain that he was going to be eaten - until he realized that the monster was laughing. 

“Do not worry…” said the monster, in a thick German accent. “I will not eat you… yet”


	3. And Thus He Descended Into the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I don’t ship North Italy/America, but for this fic, I paired them together. Don’t worry though - it’s onesided, and absolutely necessary for the plot to work. 

~the day before~

Feliciano woke to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. 

“Lovino?” he asked groggily, shaking his head to clear it of the after-sleep fog. 

His question was met with silence. 

Blinking, he yawned, stretched and slid out of bed, tossing the blankets into a rumpled heap at the foot of the cot. 

“Lov?” he asked. “What d’you want for breakfast?”

Then Feliciano’s eyes focused on the bed across from him, and he realized that Lovino was not sleeping. He looked around the cottage, and did not see Lovino.  
  


He frowned, and walked to the table, where there was a single tomato, with a note beside it. 

Feli read the note, and nodded to himself.

“So that’s why he was up before me,” he thought aloud.

He took the tomato, rubbed it on his spaghetti-string top, and began to eat it. 

_I wonder what he brought with him,_ Feliciano thought.

~two days later~

Feliciano ducked into a small “alley” created by two lagre rickety houses and ducked behind a trash can. 

He was hiding from Alfred, his tormentor, and Matthew, Alfred’s younger twin brother. Alfred had shown an unusual interest in Feliciano, something that Feliciano had never thought to be _harmful,_ per say, until a couple weeks ago, when Alfred kissed him. 

Alfred had cornered Feliciano by the book store and nearly drowned him in sloppy kisses.

Feliciano had kneed him in the groin, and snapped, “why the _fruk_ did you do that?”

Alfred had blinked and said, as if Feliciano was stupid, “because I love you. _Duh._ ”

The incident had disturbed Feli deeply, and so he tried his best to avoid Alfred, lest it happen again. 

Feliciano’s heart rate had just started to slow back down to normal when rough hands grabbed his shoulders, yanked him away from the trash can, and shoved him into the ground. 

“Boo,” whispered Alfred into Feli’s ear, his death grip on Feliciano’s arms making his arms feel almost numb.

Feliciano struggled, trying to squirm out of Alfred’s grasp, but Alfred laughed and held on tighter, pulling Feli to his feet. 

_Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ he thought, and he slammed his forehead against Alfred’s face. 

Alfred cried out and let go of Feliciano to clasp at his face, and Feli darted away, towards the mouth of the alley. Just as he ran out into the open, a blur with blond hair kicked out a leg and he tripped over it, crashing to the cobbled road. 

Matthew bent down, and grabbed Feli’s arm.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his violet eyes genuinely apologetic. 

“Can you let me go, then?” Feliciano asked, tugging his arm out of Matthew’s lax grip. Matthew shook his head, and reached for Feli’s arm. Feli danced backward… and into the clutches of a waiting Alfred. 

“No!” yelled Feli, and he thrashed forward, but Alfred tackled him to the ground. 

Pinning Feliciano underneath him, Alfred kissed him sloppily. Feliciano kicked out wildly, his foot managing to connect with something. Alfred laughed, and Feliciano squirmed out of his grasp.

Then he was on his feet, and running. He sprinted away, as fast as he could, towards his house.

Alfred, who was much faster than Feliciano, had anticipated this, and so he veered away from Feliciano, taking a shortcut to Feliciano’s house. 

Feliciano spun on his heel as soon as he was sure that Alfred was not lurking behind him, only _pretending_ to cut him off. Then he dashed down the road and into the forest. 

Suddenly, Alfred appeared from… somewhere. Feli had not actually seen where Alfred had come from, but that did not matter, not now, anyway. 

“Where are you going, my tomato?” Alfred crooned, and Feli fought down the urge to vomit. 

Feli ran deeper into the forest, hotly pursued by Alfred. 

He ran until he could see the fork in the road, but Alfred put on a burst of speed and slid to a stop in front of the right-hand path, smiling triumphantly. Alfred was absolutely _certain_ that Feliciano would give up right then and there, but Feliciano did not. 

He took advantage of Alfred stopping, running down the left path. He heard a shout of confusion from behind him, and sped up, coming to yet another fork. Once again, he went left. He ran down the winding road and hid behind a tree. 

Feliciano heard Alfred moving in the distance, and judging from the way his loud footsteps were fading, Feliciano figured that Alfred had left. Still uncertain, he decided to run further down the path. So he did.

He jogged down the trail. Suddenly the path stopped, ended by massive iron gates. Curiously, Feliciano pushed on the gates. Like they had with Lovino, the gates swung open easily. Feliciano walked through, and then stopped dead as he saw the castle looming up ahead. 

_Wow,_ he thought. _How has no one noticed this?_

He continued towards it, and then broke into a run, as after running for such a long time, he felt that he was moving as slowly as molasses being poured out of a bowl. 

Feliciano sprinted to the castle, past the rose bushes and to the wooden doors. 

He pushed against the doors, and to his relief, they, too, opened easily. 

Then he slipped through the doors, and into an elaborate interior. 

“Hello?” he called. Silence answered him. Undeterred, he called it again, but louder. “HELLO?”

This time, a feeble, “d-down here!” floated up to him. The voice sounded suspiciously like Lovino’s, but Feliciano suspected he was imagining things.

“Down here?” he echoed, and looked around. Feliciano noticed a staircase in the corner of the room he stood in, a staircase that spiralled down into shadows.

He grabbed a lit human-like candle that stood on the table by the door, and, walking to the staircase, began to descend into darkness. 

…

Feliciano walked slowly and carefully, feeling each stair with his foot first before he put his weight on it. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he reached the bottom. 

“Which way are you?” he asked, projecting his voice as loudly as he dared; he felt that if he was to break the stillness would mean doom.

“I’m this way,” the other voice answered, from Feliciano’s right. This time, Feliciano was certain that it was Lovino. 

“Lovino? Is that you?” he called. 

“Feli?” Lovino replied. 

Feliciano stepped cautiously toward the sound of Lovino’s voice, and sure enough, as soon as the candle’s light fell upon the barred door to his right, he saw Lovino’s face. Sure, Lovino looked tired and terrified, but it was _Lovino!_ Unhurt, alive-

“But- what are you doing here?” asked Feliciano. 

Lovino said, “Feli- it’s not safe here- you have to _go! Get out of here!”_

“Of course not!” said Feliciano. “Lov, I’m not leaving you here.”

“You have to! As your older brother I command you to-” Lovino’s voice trailed off into nothingness, his eyes widening.

“What is it?” Feliciano asked, confused. He turned around, and just about dropped his candle in fright. 

The beast slammed Feliciano to the stone wall beside Lovino’s cell door. The candle fell to the floor, and spluttered out.

“You have _no_ right to be here,” the beast growled.

“You are holding my brother here against his will,” Feliciano retorted, trying to wriggle out of the beast’s grasp, to no avail. 

“He stole my rose,” the beast said.

Feliciano scoffed, pretending to be confident, even though he was beyond scared. “So?”

The beast snarled in a thick German accent, “he treated my hospitality by stealing from me! He must be _punished._ ”

“How are you going to punish him?” asked Feliciano, although he dreaded the answer.

“I shall keep him here until he dies of starvation or dehydration.”

“That’s- that’s barbaric!” cried Feliciano. Then he thought of another question. “Wait… why did he ste- pick the rose in the first place?”

Lovino said nothing. 

Realization crashed over Feliciano. “Oh my- he… picked it for me…”

In a sudden jolt of inspiration, he said boldly, “well, since Lovino picked the rose for me, take _me_ as your prisoner and let Lovino go free.”

Lovino yelled his protest, but Feliciano’s decision was made.

The beast considered it. “And you will stay willingly? No escape attempts?” 

“Sí,” said Feliciano, although he half-heartedly hoped that the beast would refuse his offer.

“Then it is a deal,” said the beast. Pinning Feliciano to the wall with one arm, he pulled out a ring of keys, unlocked the cell door, and shoved Feliciano into the cell with enough force that he stumbled and fell. At the same time, the beast grabbed Lovino, and yanked him out of the cell. Then he locked the door. [The beast had enhanced vision and so the loss of candle light did not affect his ability to see.]

“Feli!” screamed Lovino as he was dragged away from the cell. “I’ll come back for you!”

Feliciano scrambled to the door. “LOVINO!” he screamed back, reaching out of the bars. 

But then Lovino and the beast were gone, and Feliciano was alone in the solitary darkness. 


	4. Feli's New Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! Yessss!

By the time the beast came back, Feliciano had very nearly fallen asleep; the day’s events had left him exhausted and sore.

However, the  _ click-clack  _ of the beast’s long nails against the stone floor banished any thoughts of sleeping from his mind. 

The beast stopped in front of the door, bending down and picking up the candle that had been left by the door. 

In an instant, there was a wisp of soft orange light, and the beast peered through the bars at Feliciano, who had leapt to his feet. 

“I am going to let you out,” said the beast in, and the metallic chimes of keys against keys reinforced that. “You are not to run.”

Feliciano nodded mutely, still quite not able to comprehend what had just happened. 

One minute he had been as free as a bird, the next, he was a prisoner - maybe even for life. 

Then he realized that he was being freed. Well, not exactly  _ free,  _ but free from the cell and the suffocating darkness, anyway. 

“Wait- so you are not going to leave me here?” Feliciano asked.

The beast frowned. “Of  _ course  _ not. You willingly decided to stay. Now my home is your home.” 

He opened the door and stepped aside.

“After you,” he said. 

Only then did Feliciano realize that he thought of the beast as a ‘he’. It was logical, but who knew, maybe monsters did not have genders. 

“Wait-” he said, hanging back.

The beast growled impatiently. “ _ What?”  _ Except, with his (?) accent, it sounded like “Vat?”

“Are you a he?” Feliciano asked.

“Of course!” said the beast, surprised. Then he paused, and said, “you can call me Ludwig.”

_ Ludwig,  _ thought Feliciano, as he walked out of the cell door, past the beast, and up the staircase. He could hear the beast - Ludwig - behind him. As soon as Feliciano emerged from the shadows of the dungeon and into the interior of the front entranceway, he hesitated. The beast nudged him forward, somewhat forcefully, as Feli stumbled.

“You can go anywhere you like,  _ except  _ for the west wing,” Ludwig said, pointing to an elegant marble staircase to the left of the hallway. 

“Why not?” asked Feliciano, his curiosity piqued. 

“That is  _ none  _ of your business.” The beast pointed to the staircase that was the same as the one on the left, only flipped (like a mirror image), and to the right of the hallway. “Your quarters are up that staircase.” 

Feliciano nodded again.

“Oh, and one more thing,”said the beast (Ludwig, Feliciano reminded himself). “Most of the inanimate objects here move and talk. Do not worry, though - they are mostly harmless.”

_ Mostly?!?  _ thought Feliciano.  _ Household objects that move and talk?!? _

The beast moved to the table by the front door, and placed the candle down by the clock.

“There you go, Francis,” the beast said. 

The candle mock-bowed, waving its ( _ or is this, too, a he?  _ wondered Feliciano) and said in a French accent, “merci.” Then he turned to Feliciano, and said, “bonjour!”

Feliciano gave a startled cry, and leapt backwards. Then the pendulum clock sprang to life, and slapped the candle. Feliciano stared in horror at this strange sight, and decided that he had had enough. He spun on his heel and dashed up the right hand staircase. 

“You bloody wanker,” the clock said to the candle in an English accent. “You scared him, you  _ frog. _ ”

The candle sniffed delicately. “Non,  _ you  _ did.”

The beast rolled his eyes as the two began squabbling, and then loped gracefully to the west-wing staircase, up the staircase, and into the west wing.

…

Meanwhile, Feliciano sprinted into the first room that had an open door. He slammed the door shut, and to his relief, it had a lock, which he slid into place. Then he turned around. 

He found himself in a massive bedroom. It had a canopy bed, a huge wardrobe, and a vanity. 

“ _ Whoa, _ ” he breathed.  _ This must be my room,  _ he thought. 

Feliciano flopped onto the bed, which was extremely comfortable, and a big change from his lumpy cot back home. 

Thinking of home made him think of Lovino. 

_ Lovino. Did he make it out?  _

Tears filled his amber-coloured eyes.  _ What if the beast lied? What if-  _

Feliciano stopped himself before he could continue that hideously depressing thought.

However, he was not able to stop the tears, not did he want to. He curled up into a ball and cried into the ultra-soft pillows. 

…

When he finished crying, he sat up. Then he cried out in surprise, as the wardrobe had  _ moved!  _ It had originally been standing against the wall, but now it was right by his bed.

“What-?” Feliciano asked.

The wardrobe smiled - actually  _ smiled  _ \- and said in a Russian accent, “hello. I am Ivan.”

Feliciano gave a little shriek, but then quickly regained his confidence.

Then wardrobe looked over Feliciano’s clothing, and sighed. 

“You need a do-over,” Ivan said.

_ The fruck-? _

“Stand up,” said the wardrobe.

Feliciano swallowed, but decided that there would be no harm in doing so.

He stood, and the wardrobe whistled. 

Immediately, the four coat hangers in the corner that Feli had not noticed snapped to attention. 

Ivan opened his arms (closet doors), revealing a large selection of dresses, uniforms, scarves, and somewhat casual (but still very fancy) clothing.

“What do you like wearing?” Ivan asked.

“Uh…” replied Feliciano, utterly confused.

Immediately, the coat hangers whizzed around him, pulling off his frazzled, plain beige T-shirt and khaki pants and replacing them with an ivory silk and black velvet tuxedo. Then they stepped back. 

The wardrobe looked him over, and frowned. “No… not quite right… maybe something blue…”

The coat hangers dipped the coat-hooks in a nod of sorts, and tried again, changing the tuxedo for a more simple green shirt that complemented his eyes, a green tie that was just a shade darker, and a blue coat with matching pants. 

Ivan nodded this time, and said, “I think knee-high boots will fit perfectly. Black leather, perhaps?”

A coat hanger dashed off, and returned with knee-high, shiny, black leather boots. 

“Put them on,” commanded the wardrobe.

Feliciano did so, although feeling slightly embarrassed for no apparent reason. 

The boots fit his feet as if they had been  _ made  _ to be worn by him. They were incredibly comfortable, too. 

Then Feliciano took them off, much to the wardrobe’s surprise. “Do you not like them?” he asked.

“No, I like them, but,” Feliciano yawned. “I am very tired.”

“Oh. Okay,” said the wardrobe.

“And… uh… could you maybe turn around? Or better yet,  _ leave _ ? I don’t feel comfortable being watched while I sleep…” said Feliciano.

The wardrobe blinked. Thought about it. Then nodded, and said, “of course.” 

He turned to face the wall, and the coat hangers followed suit. 

Feliciano then crawled under the blankets, and within a few minutes, was in a deep, dreamless sleep. 


	5. Out of The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought that I would have been able to write more than 5K words in just under a week - this is a pretty big accomplishment for me, because my normal maximum word count is 2K (lol)  
> Thanks so much for the kudos, guys, and please don’t feel shy to give me some constructive criticism! It is very helpful! And those of you who have helped with the choosing of who’s who (you know who you are!) THANK YOU SOOO MUCH!!! It has helped so, so much - especially since I haven’t actually finished watching Hetalia yet XD

Lovino had made it back to the village just fine. The beast had dragged him, kicking and screaming, away from Feliciano, away from the castle, and past the iron gates to the fork in the road where he had first turned left.

“Now  _ run, _ ” the beast had said in his strange speech.

Lovino needed no second warning. He took off as fast as he could, and, in what seemed like minutes (though it was actually hours), he arrived back at the town. Alfred was lurking in the shadows of a building, and upon seeing Lovino, he said, “where is Feliciano?”

“He’s- he’s-” The sudden, crushing weight of guilt smashed into him.

_ Feliciano was gone, because of me,  _ he thought, and the last word came out in a hoarse croak. “-gone.”

Then Lovino crumpled to his knees, and had to be lifted/dragged by Alfred back to his house. 

…

He must have fainted, because when Lovino opened his eyes, he felt a cool, wet towel against his forehead and the worried violet eyes of Matthew staring back at him.

“Are you ok?” whispered Matthew.

Lovino nodded, as his throat felt much too dry to speak.

He struggled into a sitting position and reached for the pitcher of water that had been placed on the table by the cot. Ignoring Matthew’s pitiful attempts to push him back into a lying position, he grabbed the pitcher and gulped down mouthful after mouthful of gloriously cold water.

Once he was done, he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. 

Lovino’s stomach twisted as he remembered Feliciano’s scream as he was dragged away. 

“Feliciano…” he mumbled, and his eyes filled with tears.  _ I can’t believe…  _ But he could believe it, because he was back in his house, with no Feliciano hovering around him, trying to please him, tell him that he was loved by his actions. 

Then he heard a door closing, followed by heavy footsteps, and looked up to see Alfred, much-loved by many and tormentor of Feliciano walking towards him.

He looked angry. 

“What did you do to Feliciano?” asked Alfred.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Lovino shot back.

“Feliciano is  _ gone, _ ” said Alfred.

“I  _ know  _ he’s gone,” snapped Lovino. “Look, are you going to help me get him back, or not?”

“...get him back?” repeated Alfred. “Back from what?”

“Not what,” said Lovino. “Who.”

Alfred laughed. 

“What d’you mean?” he asked.

Lovino took a deep breath. “Feliciano is being held captive by a horrendous monster, in a castle in the woods.”

There was a long, pregnant silence.

It was followed by a loud, hearty laugh.

“That’s a good one,” wheezed Alfred. “ _ Monster.  _ What, you think I’m an idiot? Well, I’m not. There’s no monster in the woods, much less a castle.”

_ He doesn't believe me,  _ thought Lovino, stunned. 

“Oh yeah?” Lovino said back. “How do you know?”

“Because I hunt in the woods  _ all  _ the time.  _ Duh. _ ”

Lovino scowled. “This is  _ no trick!  _ Feliciano is in a  _ dungeon  _ right now! We have to get him out of there!”

Alfred leaned back, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “This is all the evidence I need,” he proclaimed.

“Evidence?” echoed Lovino. 

“You,” said Alfred, jabbing at Lovino’s chest, “are insane, and therefore need to be locked up.”

“I’m  _ what? _ ” asked Lovino, dumbfounded. 

“Insane. IN-SANE,” said Alfred, accenting each syllable by poking Lovino. 

Then he grabbed Lovino by the arm, yanked him off the bed, completely ignoring Lovino’s protests and wild thrashing, and frog-marched him away from the house. 

…

The jail room he was put in was not even a proper cell, as Alfred planned to send him away after Feliciano came back. He was put into a wagon with bars across the window and a small wooden chamberpot which smelled as if it had not been cleaned properly in years. 

Lovino fumed and paced back and forth across the wagon, but there was nothing he could do as the wagon doors were locked. He swore silently under his breath. He was trapped, and so was Feliciano.

_ Sort of fitting,  _ he thought to himself, and swore silently under his breath.  _ I got out of one prison only to end up in another. Well fruk. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! It’s sort of a “filler” chapter, if you get what I mean. (Also, dancing cutlery is scary-)


	6. Be Our Guest!

Feliciano woke from his slumber sometime later. He rose groggily, the clutches of sleep smudging his reality so at first he did not realize where he was. Then it all came back to him, and a wave of despair crashed over him. 

_ I am a prisoner,  _ he thought miserably. 

His second thought was that of hunger. Feliciano’s stomach growled, and he decided to try to find the kitchen. He stumbled to the door, just barely remembering about his fancy new boots. Feli turned around, snatched up his boots and tried to hop on one foot to the door while putting on a boot on the other. Grabbing onto the door handle for support, Feliciano tugged on the other boot. He tried to open the door, but it did not open. His heart leapt into his throat, and he pulled on the door handle. Then he realized that he had not unlocked the door, and he laughed at his foolishness.

Unlocking the door with one hand, he opened it with the other, and walked out. 

A delicious smell wafted up from the downstairs area, so he trotted down the stairs and into the same hallway that his brother had walked down not that long ago. 

Feliciano entered the dining room. It was brightly lit, and the fire that glowed in the firepit crackled comfortingly. He was so absorbed in looking around the room that he did not notice the candle standing on the table. 

“Bonjour,” said the candle. 

Feliciano yelped in surprise and jerked backwards.  _ Oh,  _ he thought.  _ It’s the candle. What’s his name?  _

“Je m'appelle Francis,” the candle continued, and then said, “but you  _ should  _ already know that.”

The candle looked Feliciano up and down, and nodded. 

Feliciano suddenly felt the uncomfortable sensation of being judged.

Then he remembered why he was there in the first place. 

“Uh… erm… is there a kitchen anywhere?” he asked. 

The candle -Francis- looked around himself and registered that the table was empty. 

Then he straightened, and said, “non. You are our guest and shall be treated as such.”

Feliciano frowned. “Actually, I’m a prisoner here.”

Francis waved his comment aside. 

Then he cleared his throat and crooned, “beeee ouur guest-”

Whatever he said next was drowned out by a cacophony of noise as a row of dancing forks, spoons, knives and plates whizzed out from a door that Feliciano had not noticed. 

_ What the fruck?  _ he thought, absolutely bewildered. Then another, more absurd thought stuck him:  _ I wonder then, if this means that the pasta cooks itself. _

He snorted a laugh, and then Francis gestured for him to sit down, so he walked to the chair and sat down. 

More plates flew out to the table, heavily laden with badly burnt yorkshire pudding, some scones that were barely recognizable, and several other foods that gave off an awful odor and were so mutilated that Feliciano could not even tell what they had originally been.

Upon seeing the less-than-savoury dishes, Francis swore loudly. 

“Who put him in charge of cooking?!?” he bellowed. 

No one answered, and so he leapt off the table and stalked off towards the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

…

Several minutes passed. The gnawing hunger in Feliciano’s stomach grew almost unbearable, so he carefully lifted up one of the nicer-looking scones and tried to take a bite. It was like biting a rock. Feliciano threw the scone away into the fire, watching as even the fire could not destroy that sorry excuse for “food”. 

Finally, Francis emerged, followed by a platter of baguettes and something that Francis called “escargot”. 

Feliciano wolfed down the plate of escargots, taking a bite of baguette in between swallows of escargot. 

Then Francis whistled, and a fancy bottle of French wine was escorted into the dining room by a tray, a wine glass trailing close behind.

Feliciano watched as the wine poured itself, and carefully picked up the cup.

He sipped at the wine, secretly thinking that Italian wine would always be the best, although the wine  _ was  _ very good.

Once he was done, he thanked Francis and the dinner crew, [who did a little dance on the table, which caused so much noise that Feliciano felt that his eardrums might burst], and quickly left the dining room.

…

Feliciano stared up at the west wing.  _ Do I dare to do this?  _ he wondered.

He nodded to himself, trying to reassure himself, and then walked up the first five steps. Then he chickened out, and ran back to the bottom of the staircase. 

Sighing, he walked to the front door, and tried it. It was locked, like he had expected. With another sigh, he tromped up the stairs and into his room, throwing himself onto the bed.

…

He could not sleep. Even though it was dark out [he had a window in his room], and he  _ felt  _ tired, his eyes could just not close.

Feliciano missed Lovino so much that it hurt. Thinking of his older brother brought tears to his eyes.

_ Are you okay?  _ he thought, closing his eyes and trying and wishing against reality that he could send a thought of comfort to his brother telepathically.  _ I hope you’re ok. _

…

Somehow he managed to fall asleep, because when he opened his eyes, his room was awash with sunlight. 

Feliciano yawned, hopped out of bed and decided to explore the house.


	7. Wolves Hunt in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piano melody that is played during this chapter is CHOPIN - NOCTURNE NO.20 IN C-SHARP MINOR OP.POSTH, in case you would like to listen to it. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hyAOYMUVDs]

The first room that Feliciano went to was the dining room. Yes, he had already been to the dining room, but he wanted to see the kitchen, and the only way to get to the kitchen was through the dining room. [Or so he thought.]

Unfortunately, the door to the kitchen was locked. Cursing under his breath, Feliciano turned and saw  _ another  _ door that he had failed to notice on his previous trip to the dining room. This door was on the other end of the dining room, opposite of the fire and the chairs, and was painted a pale, robin-egg blue. 

Feliciano walked towards the door and opened it, which revealed a grand piano and a beautiful ballroom. 

_ Interesting,  _ he thought. 

He stepped back, closed the door, and headed out of the dining room and up the staircase into the east wing. The day went by quickly, as he searched all the rooms that were unlocked. [Several of them were.] At lunch, he went back down to the dining room, and found two baskets: one containing several large baguettes, the other containing scones. He naturally chose the baguettes.

Feliciano munched on a baguette as he walked out towards the front door. He expected it to be locked, but when he pushed on it, the door opened easily. 

Smiling slightly to himself, he walked out, planning to eat in the garden.

The thought of escaping, for some odd reason, never occurred to him. 

…

Meanwhile, back in the dining room, the candle and the clock stood together on the table, staring at the lone basket. 

“Ohonhonhon!” laughed Francis, pointing at the basket with the scones. “He likes my baguettes better than your scones!”   
  


“Shut up, you bloody wanker,” snarled Arthur [the clock], although he was slightly embarrassed that his basket had not been chosen. 

Francis leapt up into the air, waving his candlestick arms around, and did a little victory dance. 

“Stop that,” hissed the clock, attempting to whack the candle, who danced out of the way, still laughing.

…

In the garden, Feliciano had found the rose bushes. There was a small, circular marble fountain and he sat on the edge of it, eating his baguette and admiring the sights and sounds around him.

The garden was peaceful, and quiet, except for the occasional birdsong and the steady  _ shush-shush  _ of water falling against water. 

_ It is so beautiful here,  _ thought Feliciano. Then he blinked back his tears as he remembered that he was  _ trapped  _ here, in this beautiful prison. 

With a sigh, he finished the rest of the baguette, and then sat there, perched on the edge of the fountain, his legs swinging back and forth beneath him. He missed Lovino something terrible - it was as if a part of his heart had crumbled into an abyss when Lovino had been dragged away from him.

Slowly, he slid off the fountain, and walked dejectedly back into the castle. 

…

Feliciano dropped off the now-empty basket at the foot of the kitchen door. Then he slumped into one of the chairs by the firepit, and, curling into a ball, he started to cry. As if on cue, a soft, haunting melody trickled in from the ballroom, from the grand piano. 

All the pent up frustration, fear and grief flowed out of him in strangled sobs and crystalline tears. 

When he had cried until he could no longer cry, he stood shakily. All the emotions he had felt earlier were now replaced by a cold, clear defiance. Feliciano wanted to prove to the beast, who had not yet come out of the west wing, that he was not just some small peasant and that he was not afraid of him.

Feliciano took a deep breath, and boldly walked out of the dining room and began to climb the stairs to the west wing. 

…

“What is he doing?” hissed the clock, staring at Feliciano climbing the stairs. He had been watching Feliciano cry on the chair, despite the fact that his counterpart, the candle, had told him that he should not watch Feliciano.

“He is being human,” replied the candle, gazing after the retreating figure with a wistful longing. “We were like that once.”

“Once,” agreed the clock, his hand slipping into the candle’s and squeezing it reassuringly. 

Then Francis turned to the clock, and said, “and we shall be human again, soon.”

“You say that like it is a fact,” said Arthur mildly.

“It will be a fact,” said Francis, sniffing disdainfully, although he sounded slightly unsure of himself. 

Arthur, squeezing Francis’s hand again, said nothing.

…

Feliciano reached the west wing, and meandered down the hallway. It was immaculate, and Feliciano marvelled at the neatness. Then he saw it, through the open door: lying on the table in a room was a glass rose beside a glass dome - and in the glass dome there was a  _ real  _ rose. 

As if in a trance, Feliciano walked to the table. He picked up the glass dome with his left hand, and then the rose in his right. Gingerly, he lifted the rose to his nose. It smelled musty, but he could still make out the faint scent of roses. God, how he loved that smell. It reminded him of the old days when his father had still been alive.

Roses, apparently, had been Feliciano’s mother’s favourite flower. Therefore, it was Feliciano’s favourite flower. 

He put the rose back down, put the glass dome overtop of it. As he watched, the rose lifted into the air, straightening into the same position that Feliciano had seen it in. Then a single petal fluttered to the ground beside it.

Suddenly there was a roar of rage, and Feliciano was knocked sideways as something - the beast, realized Feliciano - leapt to the side of the glass dome, lifting the entire case to his chest, and snarling at Feliciano.

_ “Get out!”  _ bellowed the beast. Feliciano needed no further warning. He scrambled to his feet, sprinted away. Down, down the staircase he went. Out the door. Towards the forest, and the rosy pink streaks that the sun left behind as it fled the oncoming darkness. 

His heart pounded in his chest.

_ Get out, get out, getoutgetout-  _

He crashed against the gate; it opened and he fell onto his side, but then he was up again, and he continued running.

Feliciano was ecstatic. The beast had told him to get out. Now he was free. 

He slowed to a stop, and started laughing. Now he could go see Lovino. He was free, he was  _ free.  _

Then he heard a howl. It sounded close, too. The sound sent a chill into his heart.

The howl sounded again, closer this time.

_ Fruck. _

He looked around, and found a long stick on the ground. He snatched it up, brandished it in front of him.

Then there was the sound of rustling underbrush, and a wolf leapt at him.

Feliciano gave a startled cry, and jabbed the branch up at the wolf. It scraped against the wolf’s side, but did no damage as it was blunt.

The wolf lunged at him again, teeth bared, and Feliciano swung the stick like a baseball bat. He heard a sickening crunch as it connected with the wolf’s skull, and it yelped.

Then more wolves were around him, surrounding him.

Feliciano steadied his nerves, and hoisted the branch up. 

“Who wants some more?” he shouted, kicking the injured wolf away from him. “Come and get it!”

He was prepared to die, as long as it was in a blaze of glory. However, he never got the chance. 

With an animalistic scream, the beast, [who had come up behind Feliciano as he was standing with his back facing the direction of the gate] launched himself at the wolves.    
  


“Get back!” yelled the beast, and slashed at a wolf. Feliciano complied, stumbling away from the beast and the wolves, and toward the gate. 

The wolves surrounded the beast, biting and snarling.

Later, Feliciano would not remember what exactly caused him to defend the beast, but in the heat of the moment, he felt a surge of gratitude and affection towards the beast. Some might have even called it love, but not Feliciano.

Anyway, he lunged forward, and beat off some of the wolves. Finally, they left, their tails tucked in between their legs. 

The beast had several cuts and scrapes, but was able to walk on his own, and so the two walked back together in silence.


	8. By the Fireside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord I suck at coming up with titles XD  
> Also this chapter is super short just saying-  
> ...and if this chapter sucks, that is because I suck at writing fluff T_T

In the flickering firelight, Feliciano could see that the beast was not all that hideous. It was only his lower body that was ugly. His torso was actually quite muscular, and his arms were shapely [ _even more so than Alfred_ , thought Feliciano] and the beast’s - _Ludwig_ , corrected Feliciano - face was actually handsome. The twin horns that curled out of Ludwig’s skull were reminiscent of that of the devil. 

_He_ is _like the devil,_ realized Feliciano, wiping the blood away from Ludwig’s forearm. _He has the horns, the feet, the legs of the devil._

Absentmindedly, he said, “do you have a devil's tail?”

Ludwig blinked and drew back. “ _What?_ ”

“You know, a tail like the devil?” said Feliciano. 

“Of course not,” said Ludwig. 

“Oh,” said Feliciano, and, reaching for Ludwig’s arm, continued to clean the wounds on it.

…

Lurking in the corner were Arthur and Francis. They watched the scene unfold before them.

“See?” said Francis, smirking. “I told you that it would work.”

Arthur turned to face Francis. “Shut up, frog, You were doubting yourself earlier.”

Francis just shrugged.

…

Feliciano and Ludwig sat in silence, Feliciano gently stroking the blood away from Ludwig’s pale skin.

He dipped the cloth back into the warm water, squeezing the water out and then began carefully dabbing it onto Ludwig’s chest.

Ludwig hissed at the sudden, nearly _intimate_ contact, and jerked backwards. 

“Hold still!” Feliciano said, annoyed. “I can’t help you if you keep acting up!”

“ _Fine,_ ” snarled the beast. 

“Wait,” Feliciano said, pausing momentarily. He had forgotten the beast’s name. “What’s your name?”

The beast seemed somewhat taken aback by this question. 

“It’s Ludwig,” he said, almost defensively. “And what’s yours?” 

“Feliciano,” replied Feliciano, realizing that he had never actually told the beast his name.

…

“ _Ohonhonhonhonhon!_ ” squealed Francis, watching the scene excitedly. 

“Shhhh, you wanker!” muttered Arthur. “You don’t want to disrupt them!”

…

Their conversation gradually grew more friendly, and soon Feliciano found himself enjoying himself immensely. 

…

Ludwig found himself falling for the smaller brunette. For once in an insanely long time, he felt as if maybe, just maybe, he had found the love of his life.

…

Francis snickered. 

“Look at Ludwig,” he giggled.

Arthur looked sideways at Francis. “Yeah?” 

“He’s in love,” Francis said, annoyed that Arthur had not picked up on it. 

“Really?” said Arthur, interested.

“Mmhmm,” said Francis. “Now be quiet, or you’ll disrupt them.”

“Says you,” grumbled Arthur, but he stopped talking anyway, and the two of them watched on in companionable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally heating up between Feliciano and Ludwig! ...finally...  
> *dies*  
> it took forever to get to this point, lol  
> Not that long until the dance scene! Hahaha! Only one more chapter!


	9. Breaking the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s pretend like I’ve been writing Ludwig’s accent this entire time, eh? Also- sorry for the slow update - I was away for a couple days and then was super busy during the other days, so I wasn’t able to write as much, hence the long gap of no-posting.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. As every day came to an end, Feliciano began to realise that Ludwig was not actually all that bad. For the first time in a long time, he found himself experiencing the first nervous tickles of love stirring in his heart. Of course, as it was only his second time falling in love, he did not think much of it, and dismissed it as being a friendship. 

Ludwig, on the other hand, had realised the sensation as love almost immediately. He  _ thought  _ he knew Feliciano’s feelings for him - which were that of a friend. 

The only two people that could tell were Arthur and Francis, and they set about telling the rest of the castle’s inhabitants about this potential romance, and to keep quiet but give little hints to “help them discover their feelings for each other”.

…

Sometime after Feliciano had dressed Ludwig’s wounds, Ludwig and Felicicano took a stroll out to the rose garden, which were in full bloom despite there being snow on the ground. 

Feliciano wore a version of the blue uniform he had worn on that fateful day oh-so-long ago. This variant was the same except with a white faux fur lining. Ludwig wore a long fur cloak which swept down to his ankles, and he had wrapped his arms around himself, maybe to keep warm or because of his subconscious fear of being laughed at or screamed at for being a monster. 

Though they did not see them, Arthur and Francis were there, lurking behind a rosebush, holding their breath expectantly. 

…

“So…” said Feliciano, trying to break the ice. “Do you have a hobby?”

Ludwig, who was standing by a rose bush, lifting a single blood red bloom to his face, hesitated. He frowned. “I…” he said. “I….”  _ don’t actually have one.  _ He did not say that, of course. Instead, he said, “I enjoy reading. And… and… I also enjoy football.” 

He looked at Feliciano, who was standing by the frozen fountain, poking at the ice with a stick he had found on the ground. 

“What do you like?” he asked.

“Cooking,” replied Feliciano immediately. “I want to start a restaurant-” 

His face fell as he suddenly remembered that he was stuck there.

_ I don’t even know if I’ll even be able to start a restaurant, stuck here in this castle,  _ he thought to himself. 

“A restaurant…” repeated Ludwig, not noticing Feliciano’s crumpled expression. “What would you cook?”

“Wha?” Feli looked up. 

“What would you cook?” Ludwig said again.

“Pasta,” said Feliciano. 

“Huh…” said Ludwig. An idea was starting to form in his mind. “Have you seen the kitchens yet?”

…

“ _ Honhonhonhon!  _ Things are getting  _ spicy!”  _ giggled Francis, peering at Ludwig and Feliciano trudging back towards the castle.

Beside him, Arthur rolled his eyes.  _ Francis and his romance,  _ he thought.  _ Honestly. One would think he is a frucking match-maker at this rate.  _

…

Inside the castle, Ludwig and Feliciano meandered down the hallway to the dining room. Then, to Feliciano’s surprise, Ludwig walked to the fireplace. He reached above the mantelpiece and pressed on a stone. 

There was a low sound of rock grinding against rock, and then the entire fireplace slid backwards half a metre, and then scraped slowly to the left, revealing a hidden hallway.

“ _ Whoa, _ ” breathed Feliciano. 

Ludwig looked around. “Francis?  _ Francis!”  _

  
When Francis did not answer [he was still outside, having been sidetracked by attempting to take revenge on Arthur, who had lobbed a snowball at his head, effectively extinguishing the flame there], Ludwig huffed in frustration, and marched past Feliciano to grab a small candle from the table. 

Then he walked back to the hallway, beckoning for Feliciano to follow him. 

“Where are we going?” asked Feliciano, hesitating. The thought of Ludwig luring him into the dark to murder him was a very terrifying one, and it seemed quite realistic to him, despite the fact that he had started to trust that Ludwig meant him no harm. 

Ludwig smiled at him - a genuine smile that melted Feliciano’s fears away completely. 

“It’s a surprise,” he said, and reached for Feliciano’s hand. 

…

Ludwig covered Feliciano’s eyes with his hand, and, brandishing the candle to scare away the dark, they walked forward into the velvety shadows. 

…

Ludwig led Feliciano down the hallway and to the kitchen’s back door. 

[Why the kitchen had a secret hallway, Ludwig did not know, but he suspected it had something to do with the suspicious rust-red stains on the pantry’s wooden floor.]

“Okay…” he said, removing his hand from Feliciano’s eyes and blowing out the candle. [There was plenty of light in the kitchen.] “You can look now.”

Feliciano opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden light. 

Then, once his eyes had adjusted, he looked around the kitchen. 

He was too amazed to speak - this kitchen was much bigger and way better than his kitchen at home.

Ludwig, mistaking his stunned silence for disgust, panicked. 

“Do- do you like it?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest as if he had just run a race.

Then Feliciano smiled, and suddenly the room became  _ that much brighter.  _ Ludwig felt a wave of relief crash over him, as well as a sudden urge to pick up the lithe brunette and kiss him while spinning him around, but he stopped himself from doing so. 

“Ve~ I like- no, I  _ love  _ it!” squealed Feliciano, his eyes wide and full of wonder.

And in that moment of delight and surprise, any mistrust of Ludwig faded away. 

“Thank you!  _ Thank you thank you thankyouthankyou-”  _ Feliciano threw himself at Ludwig, nearly knocking the German over. 

Ludwig stumbled back, startled, but then once he had regained his balance, he hugged Feliciano back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes well, chapter 10 should be done/posted by tomorrow.   
> ...if all goes well...  
> T_T


	10. Dancing in the Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Doitsu and Lovi. Will this work as ‘payment’ instead of a oneshot? XD  
> Also: My friend Doitsuduck [on Youtube] and I collaborated to make a two-part chapter - as in, you read this chapter while listening to her video and then you watch the rest of it! If you have a youtube account, please drop a like on her video, subscribe, and leave a nice comment! Thank you and have a great day!!!

Link to her video:  [ GerIta AMV - Beauty and the Beast ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qm7xyq9DQlg)

…

Feliciano flopped onto his bed, his head in his hands.  _ What have I done? I can’t dance…  _

…

A few days prior: 

“Feliciano?” asked Ludwig shyly, sitting on the other end of the dining table. He was staring at a bowl of pasta, which Feliciano had prepared for him in the kitchen. 

“Ve?” Feliciano said, his mouth full of pasta. He hastily swallowed and said, “what is it?”

Ludwig looked up at Feliciano bashfully and gestured to the bowl before him. 

“What is this?” he asked. 

Feliciano stared at him, mouth agape, completely stunned.

“You… you don’t know… what  _ pasta  _ is?!?” he choked. 

“Pasta?” echoed Ludwig. He blinked, looked back down at the mess of long noodle strings and red tomato sauce. 

“Yes,” said Feliciano. “You eat it. It is food.”

Ludwig hesitated, and then grabbed a fistful of noodles, tried to somehow shove them all into his mouth without spilling them everywhere. It was a failure.

_ Gott verdammt,  _ thought Ludwig, his face reddening.  _ I’ve made a fool of myself, haven’t I.  _

Feliciano sniffed, and stood, grabbing his bowl and marching to the other end of the table. Then on a second note, quickly walked back and grabbed his fork. 

Once he had grabbed the fork, he stomped - actually stomped - to the seat to Ludwig’s right and slammed the bowl onto the table. 

“I  _ will show you how to eat pasta, _ ” he snarled. “ _ Properly. Without  _ making  _ a mess. _ ”

Ludwig flinched inwardly.  _ Gott he is-  _

He was distracted by Feliciano’s delicate hands closing around his, wrapping his fingers around cold, cool metal - a fork - and twisting the fork within his fingers. 

“Wha-” he mumbled, watching Feliciano expertly twist a ball of spaghetti onto his fork. 

“ _ Then  _ you eat it,” Feliciano said, removing his hands from Ludwig’s to wrap the pasta onto his fork. “You use a  _ fork,  _ not your  _ fingers. _ ”

“Oh,” Ludwig said dumbly. He lifted the fork to his lips. Taking a bite, he found that his mouth was suddenly filled with delectable spices and tastes. 

“ _ Whoa… _ ” he said. “That is amazing-”

Beside him, Feliciano gave a snort of laughter. 

“Better than potatoes and wurst?” he asked.

“Way better,” agreed Ludwig. 

Another laugh. 

Ludwig felt a happy, bubbly feeling spread through his body.  _ I love making him happy,  _ he realised.  _ And… and I  _ want  _ to make him happy.  _

They began to eat, in companionable silence, and soon they were done.

Something felt off though. Incomplete. He looked at Feliciano, and then to Feliciano’s hands. He reached for Feliciano’s hands, lifted it to his lips like the fork, and kissed it. 

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and smiled inwardly. That sound sent a shiver through his body.  _ Gott, I could love this man,  _ he thought. 

Then, lifting his eyes to meet Feliciano’s, he whispered, “Feliciano, will you dance with me in a few nights from now? As… a way of repaying you for this wonderful meal?”

A horrible silence followed. 

_ What have I done?  _ he wondered.  _ Have I ruined everything? _

“... _ yes… _ ” Feliciano whispered back. “I’ll dance with you _. _ ”

…

And now Feliciano lay sprawled out on his bed, paralysed by fear - fear of being a complete idiot on the dance floor. 

_ I can’t do this, I can’t dance- _

“Feliciano?” asked a somewhat familiar Russian voice. It was Ivan, his bedroom’s wardrobe. 

“Yeah?” sniffled Feliciano.

“What is wrong?” 

“I promised Ludwig that I’d dance with him-” Feliciano began.

“Say no more,” said Ivan, “and stand up.”

“Stand up?” repeated Feliciano.

“Yes. Now  _ stand up. _ ”

Feliciano slid off the bed and onto his feet. 

“Now close your eyes,” Ivan commanded. “I have something that will be just  _ perfect  _ for a dance and just  _ perfect  _ for you.”

Feliciano swallowed and closed his eyes.

“If I look like an idiot though, I’m going in my regular blue outfit.”

The wardrobe said nothing, but he chuckled. 

It did nothing to reassure Feliciano, [who wanted to look his best for Ludwig but would never admit it]. 

…

Ludwig paced back and forth at the bottom of the two staircases. He was dressed in a neat black-and-white tuxedo, with a red rose pinned to the fabric over his chest.

_ Where is he?  _ Ludwig wondered.  _ Is he coming? _

Then he heard a door open and then close, and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen walked down the staircase.

His breath hitched in his throat.  _ Gott, Feli looks gorgeous.  _

Feliciano wore a floaty satin dress of sunflower yellow, and a simple band of gold adorned his brow. 

Upon seeing Ludwig, he smiled weakly. 

“Do I look okay?” he asked, offering Ludwig his hand.

“You look stunning,” Ludwig replied.

“As do you,” said Feliciano gracefully.

They walked hand-in-hand to the ballroom.

…

Inside, a soft piano melody played, and candles glowed in various corners of the room. Looking up, Feliciano saw a large panel of glass in the place of a square of roof. Shining down on them was the moon, bright and unblinking, and a smattering of stars, scattered against the velvet night.

…

“Ooh!” squealed Francis, grabbing Arthur’s hand excitedly. “Look! Ohonhonhon!”

Arthur scowled, shaking off Francis’s hand. “Shut up, frog.” 

However, he was intrigued by this. After all, he was only  _ pretending  _ not to care, just to annoy Francis. The truth was, he was  _ very  _ invested in what was going to happen that night. He had placed a bet with Elizabeta, the ‘sexy’ dust-mop [she was the only one that knew of his crush on Francis and acted alluring to Francis only to annoy Arthur]. The bet was this: if Ludwig and Feliciano kissed [which Arthur was sure they would], Elizabeta would stop acting alluring towards Francis, and if they did not kiss, Arthur would have to kiss Francis. 

Little did Arthur know that Francis had also placed a similar bet with Elizabeta [but a - ah - more “mature” bet]. 

Elizabeta knew that they both liked each other in a way that was more than friends, and was determined to make them a couple. 

…

Meanwhile, Ludwig and Feliciano had moved to the centre of the ballroom. 

Ludwig placed his free hand onto Feliciano’s slim waist, and lifted his arm - and Feliciano’s arm - into the air. 

“Put your hand on my waist,” he said to Feliciano. 

Feliciano did so silently.  _ I’m going to mess up I’m going to mess up-  _

Very slowly, they began to sway in time to the music. 

Then Ludwig stepped to the right, and Feliciano hastily did the same. 

“Have you not danced before?” asked Ludwig with a chuckle.

Feliciano shot him a glare, and then, as he was not watching Ludwig’s feet to mirror his movements, he tripped and fell into Ludwig. 

They tumbled onto the floor, a mess of arms and legs and- 

“I’m sorry-” said Feliciano at the same time that Ludwig said, “guess you have not danced before.”

They looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

“Let’s try again, okay? We’ll take it really slow,” promised Ludwig.

“Okay,” said Feliciano, beaming at him.

…

Arthur and Francis watched from the shadows as the two figures sashayed slowly around the dance floor. 

Once or twice Feliciano would trip, but Ludwig would catch him, and then they would laugh and try again.

It was a very cute spectacle, and Arthur prayed that they would just  _ kiss  _ already. 

“I mean, they are already so close...” he mumbled.

“Hmm?” asked Francis, turning to look at him. “Did you say something?”

“No, no,” said Arthur, thanking his lucky stars that they were in the shadows, or else Francis might have seen the blush on his face.

…

The two danced long into the night. Dancing was surprisingly easier than Feliciano had once thought, and he realised that he enjoyed it immensely. 

Finally, they realised that they were exhausted and that it was very late. 

Ludwig wanted to kiss Feliciano, but did not, for fear of ruining the magical moment that they had just had. 

So they headed off into their separate wings to collapse onto their beds and fall asleep.

…

_ Dammit,  _ Arthur thought, watching them leave the ballroom as the last piano notes faded into silence.

He turned to Francis.  _ I won’t go back on my bet,  _ he thought.  _ Even though I really, really want to. _

“Franci-” he was cut off as Francis kissed him.

Angry that he had not been the first to kiss the other, he kissed Francis back, harder, and soon they were rolling on the floor like a bunch of lunatics. 

Only when Roderich began to play the same song again did they stop, suddenly aware that they were being watched. 

“You  _ say nothing or else! _ ” shouted Arthur to the piano.

Roderich chuckled, then said in his Austrian accent, “of course…  _ not. _ ”

However, he said ‘not’ so quietly that Arthur did not hear him. 

Then Arthur turned back to Francis and growled. “We are going to have to have a little talk, you and I.”

Francis just laughed, and said, “oui, Arthur.”

And so they left too, and Roderich was left to play his romantic piano in peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah sorry if you cringed to death :(  
> HOWEVER, I REGRET NOTHING  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> except maybe the FrUk in this chapter-


End file.
